At War with Germany
by mouthwick
Summary: Kurt Hummel is leaving New York and moving back to Ohio for an indefinite amount of time and looking for a new job. He is hired at Dalton as the newest French teacher where he meets Mr. Anderson, the charming German teacher with a puzzling past.
1. Chapter 1

**ohGOD. hey all. this is my first fanfiction. EVER. I've written short stories and such before but never fanfiction so I am EXCITE. I would love constructive criticism and just anything else you'd like to say to me.  
>I know the teacher!Klaine thing has been done to death, but I'm hoping I can put a fresh spin on it, considering that I have a huge thing for teachers, and the image of Blaine holding a briefcase and laughing with his students and later fucking his coworker Kurt over his desk is a very delicious image.<br>_anyways,_ I'm gonna try to update this as often as possible. andddd... enjoy!**

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><p>"We would love to have you on our staff here at Dalton, Mr. Hummel." Dr. Daniel Elmore stood and adjusted the waist of his khaki pants over his slight gut. Kurt stood as well and smoothed his lightly sweating palms over his supple silver vest.<p>

"Thank you so much, sir. I really appreciate it. And I really look forward to starting in August." Kurt's airy soprano voice hitched at the end of his sentence in excitement. He shot his hand out for the principal to shake and the older man grasped Kurt's soft hand in a firm grip and chuckled.

"Of course, Kurt." He stepped out from behind his desk to open the oak door of his office. "Right this way, son. I'll leave you with Ms. Hendricks, our VP. She'll get you squared away with all the boring paperwork and take you on a quick tour." Kurt followed and Dr. Elmore lead him to an office nearby with the name plaque 'Joan Hendricks, Vice Principal' on the door. "Joan, Kurt Hummel is here and ready for your guidance." Daniel knocked on the door and opened it cautiously.

"Oh good, send him in." Joan hopped up from her desk and shuffled over to Kurt. "It's so nice to meet you, boy." Joan was a stout woman with bright red hair and dark dramatic eye makeup creased with crows-feet; Kurt tried to stop himself, but almost immediately his mind went to five different products he had in his medicine cabinet to diminish the appearance of wrinkles. She smiled brightly and her teeth were shiny and had a muted yellow tint to them that Kurt had noticed was quite prevalent in older people.

"Well, let's get to it."

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><p>"Down that way are the science lab classrooms. I don't imagine you'll be spending too much time down that way." Joan gestured down the empty hallway and Kurt silently nodded. Science was never his strong suit, plus the safety goggles were tacky and messed up his hair.<p>

"And up this way…" she trailed off and began to march up the stairs, "is your new home." She made a wide sweeping motion at the surrounding area and Kurt took a deep breath, trying to take it all in.

Dalton Academy was vast and posh and _beautiful._ Kurt was grateful to have been hired at Dalton for this reason; if he was going to be living in Ohio again for an indefinite period of time, he needed to be working in a place that reminded him of New York. Kurt had worked at a private school in the city, much like this one, for the past two years so he thought it was great he could be reminded of the big city in a small town such as Westerville. Dalton was covered in cold, hard marble floors and rich wood paneled walls, intermixed with bright, hand-painted murals.

"This is the foreign language hall. Isn't it beautiful?"

Kurt looked up at the crystal chandelier and smiled, "I love it."

"Great," Joan beamed. "Your classroom will be right down here, dear." Kurt trailed the older woman, noting that they passed three other classrooms on the way to his.

"This is room 315," she pointed at the gold metal number on the door. "Your new room," She swung open the heavy door and Kurt frowned, confused.

The wood paneling and the marble floors continued into the room, a fact that Kurt admired. The desks were all wood and the only aspect of the room that even slightly resembled a regular public school was the white board, which looked supremely out of place against the dark wood. But Kurt couldn't complain about that either; he hated the way chalk felt against his skin and refused to clap erasers. The room was also equipped with a relatively new looking computer and an expensive looking projector system.

The characteristic of the room that confused Kurt the most was the unconventionally large German flag on the far wall of the room. The room also had no wall murals, but one half of the room was pasted with posters of German grammar rules and verb conjugations.

Kurt turned to Ms. Hendricks, perplexed, "I think there's been a mistake. I teach French."

"What? Oh! You mean the posters." Joan chuckled and passed Kurt and left him in the door way, pausing at the bulky desk in the front, obviously the teacher's desk. "Well come on in and I'll explain it." Kurt crossed his arms tightly across his chest and strutted over to Joan, the heels of his boots clicking all the way.

"Okay, so you're technically sharing this classroom. You won't have classes at the same time or anything. This door," She pointed to the door on the left of the teacher's desk, "is your office. And that one," she pointed to the door on the right, "is Mr. Anderson's office. He's a really nice guy though so there's no need to worry. But he'll most likely stay in his office while you have a class, and you are definitely welcomed to do the same when he's teaching; he's the German teacher, obviously. I'll also show you the teacher's lounge on our way out, that's where a lot of the staff spends their time."

Kurt nodded and digested the information. He was a firm believer in personal space and wasn't sure how he felt about having another teacher hovering around while he was working. But it wasn't his place to complain, so for now he would have to accept it, and pray that this 'Mr. Anderson' was as nice as Joan had said.

"I can handle that." Kurt smiled. Joan clapped, and hopped down from her seat on the desk.

"Perfect. Now let's get goin'. I've got a bottle of wine at home and some leftover lasagna calling my name. And I'm sure you wanna tell your friends you got the job."

Kurt nodded and exited the classroom after Joan. He gave one last look back at the room before the door closed and his stomach erupted into butterflies. He was surprised by how excited he was to be starting his new job here, even though it was in a state that he loathed. But in a month, Kurt would be in this room teaching the language he loved, and that would have to keep him happy for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**ohmygosh you guys! I wanna say thanks to everyone who added this story to their favorites/alerts and also to DayDreamer456 for my first review. this is a super quick (kinda short) update cause I was inspired, but the next part will most likely be up tomorrow. _weeeeeeeeee_**

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><p>"My first day is tomorrow 'Cedes and I have no idea what to wear. Me, Kurt Hummel, totally clueless about what pants to put on. This is worse than when I was an actual student in high school." Kurt wedged his cell phone between his ear and his shoulder and continued to peruse the multitude of racks and hangers in his closet while talking to his best friend of nearly ten years.<p>

"Kurt you are unbelievable. You're the most fabulous bitch I know. You could show up there in a garbage bag and still have all those prep school boys drooling over you." Mercedes giggled over the line and Kurt scoffed.

"Yeah 'cause I definitely want that. I couldn't handle high school boys when I was _in_ high school. There is no way I could date one now. Not to mention it's illegal." Kurt tilted his head in consideration when he came across a pair of close fitting navy trousers in his closet. Then he started to picture his new Marc Jacobs gray blazer paired with it, and pulled that off its hanger as well.

"Oh really? This is an all boys school. Don't tell me you aren't gonna look."

"Oh I'm definitely gonna look. But I'm not going to touch. And I'm not going to fraternize with them in any way, unless it's relevant to my lesson plan." Kurt tossed his phone on his bed after switching it to speaker, and started to undress for his shower. "I have to go now though, 'Cedes. I need to shower and iron my pants and get my beauty rest."

"Okay. I love you, boo. Good luck tomorrow. Don't break too many hearts."

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><p>The next morning, Kurt woke early and coiffed his hair perfectly, then toasted himself a multigrain bagel and filled his travel mug with orange juice and raced out the door of his one bedroom apartment. He arrived at Dalton nearly fifteen minutes later and parked in the back parking lot reserved for the staff.<p>

School wasn't to start for at least another hour, so there was no real rush for Kurt, but he was hoping to get a chance to meet his classroom-mate, the elusive Mr. Anderson, before he was bombarded with school work. As Kurt walked down the corridors of Dalton he waved 'good morning' to Dr. Elmore and Joan as they passed and let his thoughts drift to Mr. Anderson.

Joan had said literally nothing about the other man, except that he taught German, so that left Kurt to fill in the blanks. Over the past month, Kurt had come to picture this man in his head as a tall, dark and mysteriously handsome guy. Maybe, with a scruffy beard and a head of curls he could run his fingers though. But then Kurt would snap out of his daydream and his mind would supply a much more believable description of Mr. Anderson. He was probably an elderly, married man, on the verge of retirement that while older and stern with age, the students respected.

Kurt was most worried that Mr. Anderson would somehow sense that Kurt was gay (because hell if he was going to outright tell **anyone** at this school his sexual preference, regardless of any 'zero-harrassment' school policy) and badger him for it.

Kurt's train of thought had not yet reached its end by the time he came to a stop outside the classroom door, but he paused his thoughts for now. Kurt told himself he was not going to let his confidence be shot down by some Midwest nobody, so he took a deep breath and grasped the handle, then pulled it open, surprised at how heavy the door actually was.

Much to Kurt's surprise and pleasure, the room was empty. Not an instructor or pupil was in sight and immediately the breath he had been holding shot out of his lungs like a stallion from a stable.  
>He made his way towards the front of the room and gingerly placed his leather briefcase on the desk and began to take out his materials. He didn't get far though because after a minute, Kurt was startled by the sound of the classroom door opening behind him.<p>

He nearly lost his breath again as the man at the door looked up and beamed at him, his amber eyes sparkling from across the room. Kurt could feel his face start to flush as the man opened his mouth.  
>"Well, hello there."<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so stoked by the reviews you guys are giving me and the _insane _ amount of people who have added this to their alerts. really though I love reviews and I would absolutely love it if you wanted to talk to me.  
>just something to think about.<br>but in the mean time, please enjoy this ridiculously early update. I am so inspired by this story and I can't stop, so hopefully I'll continue to update quickly.  
>also, I've only taken one year of French and three years of German so I apologize in advance if I totally butcher either of these languages.<strong>

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><p>Kurt was slightly stunned by the man that stood in front of him. A part of his mind told him that this had to be Mr. Anderson, but mostly he didn't want to accept that. This guy was too…<em> hot <em>to be a teacher here. He had dark, curly hair parted on the side, carelessly gelled to tame the style just slightly and Kurt could almost feel his fingers twitching to run his fingers through those gorgeous locks. The next thing Kurt noticed was the man's dorky wardrobe that he found oddly charming. He was wearing a gray button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, with a red sweater vest layered on top and a black checked bowtie wrapped around his neck. As the man walked towards him, Kurt also eyed his straight legged jeans appreciatively.

He held a half-eaten apple in one hand, gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in the other and balanced the strap of his expensive looking leather bag over his shoulder. When the handsome man reached the edge of the teacher's desk he set his coffee on top of it, and put his apple down next to it on a napkin he pulled from his pocket. He then proceeded to swipe his tongue over his index finger, presumably to rid it of excess juice. All the while, Kurt never took his eyes off him.

"You must be the new French teacher, oui?" The man's amber eyes met Kurt's turquoise ones and Kurt had to hold in a gasp at the man's sheer beauty. He had never seen irises of that shade before; he found himself mesmerized. But not to the point that he over looked his horrible French accent.

"Ah. Oui, je m'appelle Kurt Hummel. Et vous êtes?" _(Yes, my name is Kurt Hummel. And you are?) _Kurt asked in perfect French, a coy smirk on his face which the other man returned.

"Meine name ist Blaine Anderson. Ich bin der Deutsch Lehrer." _(My name is Blaine Anderson. I'm the German teacher.)_ "It's nice to finally meet you." Blaine stuck his hand out for Kurt to shake but he only eyed it warily.

"You just licked those fingers." Kurt tried to keep his 'bitch-face' in check and managed to only glare jokingly at Blaine.

Blaine laughed, bright and open, "You're right. I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" He dug in the front pocket of his bag and after a moment of searching pulled out a prepackaged wetwipe which he proceeded to tear open and rub over his hands. "Want one?" He asked kindly and glanced at Kurt who nodded.

"Yes, please. Thank you," he took the little square when it was handed to him and casually began to wipe his hands. They stood side by side for a minute, cleansing their hands in a companionable, if not somewhat awkward silence, before they both spoke at once.

"So –"

"So –"

Their eyes met and they both laughed, Blaine snorting faintly at the end of each breath, which then sent Kurt into a new set of giggles. When his laughter settled Kurt felt a tad more at ease and took a seat on the teacher's desk.

"You go first." He waved at Blaine.

"No, no. You. Go ahead, I insist." He smiled politely. And Kurt's heart fluttered.

"I was just going to ask the basics. You know, where are you from, how old are you. Those kinds of things." Kurt flushed lightly and he wished he could kick himself for sounding and most likely looking so embarrassed. But Blaine either didn't notice, or he didn't care because he grinned and picked up his coffee and began to talk about himself.

"Well I'm from right here actually," he chuckled. "I'm a Dalton Academy alumni, in the flesh."

Kurt interrupted, stunned. "No way." This guy couldn't be that much older than him, and certainly not any younger. He thought back to his high school days at McKinley and the brief affair he had had with a Dalton boy, Seth that he had met at a glee club sectionals competition. He couldn't recall meeting a 'Warbler', as they called them, named Blaine.

"Yes way," Blaine continued smugly, "Class of 2009. You didn't go here did you?" His eyes glittered, curiously and Kurt had to look away before he started drooling or gaping and making a complete fool out of himself.

"Oh, no. I graduated from McKinley in Lima, class of 2012. I just da –"_Shit. _He couldn't tell this guy he dated one of the boys here. He would be breaking his only rule. "I was friends with a few of the guys in the glee club here. The Warblers is what they were called if I'm remembering correctly."

Blaine nodded, and smiled with a far off, nostalgic shimmer in his eyes. "Ah yes the Warblers. I was one myself when I was in school. Gosh, I can't believe that was over ten years ago…" he trailed off, with a slightly pained look on his face, then he sighed and looked back towards Kurt. "Sorry. What were your other questions, again?"

Kurt turned his hips on the desk to face Blaine more straight on and thought of a few more questions. "Well your age, but I guess you kind of just answered that one. Uhm… Where did you get your education? What is your favorite color? And do you have any pets?"

Blaine chortled and rested his hip against the desk, facing Kurt. Then he raised his left hand and began to count off his answers on his fingers, "I'm twenty-eight, will be twenty-nine in November. I went to the University of Boston. My favorite color is red, and I have a German shepherd named Liesl; after Liesl Von Trapp from the Sound of Music." He tapped each finger as he silently counted, as if he was making sure he didn't miss anything. "Now it's my turn."

At that moment, the classroom door swung open and a group of boys in school uniform waltzed in, chattering amongst themselves and paying no attention to the teachers at the front of the room. Kurt glanced down at his watch and noted that his class was to start in ten minutes.

"Looks like I'll have to ask you my questions at lunch, huh?" Blaine raised his remarkably triangular shaped eyebrows hopefully and nudged the younger man in the side with his elbow.

Kurt gaped for a second and then caught his breath and his ability to form sentences, "Sure. I don't have any other plans."

"Great. I'll see you here at eleven o'clock then." Blaine gathered his things from around the desk and with a wave to Kurt, strolled into his office and shut the door behind him with a click.


	4. Chapter 4

**THANK YOU to all who reviewed. I deeply love you. so, to make up for the wait that was longer than I had planned, you get an extra long chapter! weeeee  
>edit: thanks to <span>badumtiss<span> who caught my mistake of putting 'Darren' instead of 'Blaine' in a sentence. I just can't seem to think about anything other than Darren Criss so it's a relatively frequent problem for me. **

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><p>Kurt placed his lunch box on Blaine's desk and began to take out the meal he had packed for himself. He had thrown together a small salad and a thermos of broccoli cheese soup, and he had been planning to eat both but that was before he knew how gorgeous Mr. Anderson was. He started to put his thermos back in his bag but then Blaine interrupted him.<p>

"Um, I have a microwave in here if you want to use it. I usually use it for popcorn in between classes. I've got a thing for popcorn." Blaine stopped talking quickly, as if he was embarrassed or had said too much.

"Oh, okay thanks. But it's warm enough." Kurt stood awkwardly next to Blaine's desk, he suddenly felt strangely out of place. Blaine looked so comfortable in his office, his habitat, and Kurt felt as if he was intruding on this man's private area. The office was dimly lit for Blaine didn't like the harsh color of the ceiling lights and instead opted to string icicle Christmas lights across the ceiling. He had posters hung on the walls of the Beatles and Elvis Presley and behind his desk he had a collage of pictures of himself and various boys in Dalton uniforms and an older couple that looked as if they could be his parents sitting with a toddler in between them.

"I like your office. It's quite… homey." Kurt twirled slowly to take it all in and stopped when he came full circle to stare anywhere but Blaine Anderson's pink, soft-looking lips.

Blaine bent just slightly at the waist in a mock bow, "I greatly appreciate your approval," he sounded almost as if he was mocking Kurt but he was just so charmed by the older man, Kurt couldn't find it in himself to be even remotely insulted. Blaine then pulled out the chair at his desk for himself and plopped down into it. "Kurt, please, just sit." Blaine smiled and bit his lip lightly, and kicked out the seat opposite him.

Kurt sat in the ratty blue chair that wouldn't even look salvageable at a thrift store and dug into his lunch. The pair ate in silence for a moment, just eating and enjoying the company of the other. Kurt felt as if all the chummy conversation they had shared that morning had flown out the window and they were back to square one. But then with perfect timing, Blaine opened his mouth.

"How have you liked your classes so far? You've only had two so far, right?" Kurt nodded. "Any of the boys give you trouble?"

Kurt thought about it for a moment as he chewed on the cherry tomato he had just popped into his mouth. "The classes are good, not that I didn't expect them to be. I was definitely more nervous than I should have been." Blaine nodded along as Kurt spoke, "although there was this one senior boy in my last class, I think his name was Sebastian. I think he was trying to proposition me, but his French was so awful I couldn't tell if he was asking me to sleep with him or wash his dog."

Mid way through a bite of his pasta salad, Blaine giggled cutely, and covered his mouth with his hand, "Kurt, stop!" Blaine coughed and Kurt almost reached forward to pat his shoulder but then Blaine smirked through the tears that had gathered in his eyes. "I'm gonna choke."

"Oh, so that wasn't you choking just then?" Kurt pointed accusingly at Blaine with his fork.

Blaine wiped at his eyes and stuttered out one last cough, "Really though, Sebastian is a pain in the ass. He used to be in my class, but I threatened to turn him into Dr. Elmore. I guess he moved on, and now he is hitting on younger, prettier meat." Blaine winked slyly at Kurt and the younger man nearly dropped his fork.

But Blaine just continued talking as if he hadn't just stopped Kurt's heart with one flutter of his eyelashes. "So we didn't get to finish talking about you this morning. And as much as I do love talking about myself, I'd like to get to know you." Blaine glanced up at Kurt, "I mean, only if you want to tell me. It's fine if you don't."

"No, I have nothing to hide," _Except my blaring homosexuality, _"Ask away."

"All right. Let's start with the questions you asked me earlier. So first, where'd you go to college?" Blaine began to eat his pasta salad again and fixed Kurt with an imploring look.

Kurt swallowed his mouthful of dressing-drenched lettuce and took a swig from his bottle of water. "Well, I went to NYADA," Blaine looked last at the acronym so Kurt clarified, "the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts." Blaine appeared even more confused at that. As far as he knew, most art schools weren't equipped with foreign language education programs. "I was there for two semesters studying musical theater. I loved it. I really did, and I felt like I belonged there, in New York, you know what I mean? I fit in there. But the summer before my sophomore year I took a trip to France with my friend Rachel and I fell in love with everything about it." Kurt trailed off in a nostalgic haze and got caught up in his thoughts of street cafes and rolling fields of grape vines and men with smooth, delicious accents. "I did take French in high school and middle school though, so I could speak to everyone fairly easily. It was hard to come back to the States and hear all the American accents, and see all the obese people in line at McDonalds." Blaine snorted, but shrugged and nodded in agreement. "I transferred to NYU not long after that. I still have a place in my heart that regrets not staying at NYADA, but I've been teaching for almost three years and I can't imagine doing anything other than this."

Blaine's eyes twinkled as he interjected, "No, I totally understand. Teaching was never anything that I had planned for myself either. I went to Germany in high school with my teacher and the experience changed everything about me." Blaine smiled softy, "Just being with all these people who were so much like me, but so different in a way that I couldn't explain. And of course the nightly partying in our hostels was a plus." He let out a laugh that sounded more like an exhale of breath than anything, "We even went to France for a day."

Kurt raised his eyebrows with a smile, "Oh yeah?"

"Sure did. And I hated it." Blaine deadpanned and made to take another bite of his lunch.

Kurt laughed in disbelief, "you're joking."

Blaine looked up and chuckled for no reason other than the fact that Kurt was laughing, and his bright, spritely giggle was infectious. "I'm serious! They were rude and the food sucked and the toilets didn't have toilet seats."

Kurt almost choked on an olive as he fell into another fit of laughter. "What the hell? What part of France were you _in_?"

"The shitty part, obviously," Blaine settled further in his seat and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "In all seriousness though, I may just be a little biased. I'm a native German at heart. But also, my teacher in high school, Herr Scheuerman, used to mock the French. For no real reason. It was all in good fun, and we would make jokes in class. I guess those feelings stuck, huh?" Blaine's voice was serious but his lips held a mocking quirk to them, and his eyes were dancing with laughter and Kurt felt like he was in high school again when his cheeks flushed.

"Fine, if that's how it's gonna be," Kurt scooted his chair a few inches to the right, the opposite direction of the other teacher. He looked at the older man through his eyelashes, "I vomited a little in my mouth when I first saw that hideous flag on the wall in there." He jerked his head in the direction of the classroom.

Kurt was surprising himself by how flirty he was being, but he felt comfortable around Blaine, so he found himself speaking even more coyly the longer he talked to the older man.

"That's not nice." Blaine pouted and moved his own chair closer to Kurt's, and when he came to a stop, they were several inches closer than they had been originally, and Kurt felt his heart rate increase.

"Let's continue with the interview though, lunch is almost over. You mentioned earlier that you went to high school in Lima. Why didn't you decide to take a job there? I'm also assuming you were working in New York prior to this."

Kurt nodded, "you are correct to assume this. I worked at a private school a lot like Dalton, which is one reason why I took this job. I was there for only two years but it was great. Recently though, just this past May actually, my step-brother's wife had their first child, and my dad has also been sick and getting worse lately. I just want to be here for all of them." Blaine gave Kurt a sympathetic look and reached out to pat the younger teacher on the shoulder. "I just really missed my family while in New York. A lot more than I thought I would, if I'm being honest."

Blaine looked as if he wanted to say more, but then he glanced at his watch and sighed, "Okay I think we have time for the lightning round. Ready for this?" Kurt gave a firm nod. "Okay… Favorite color?"

"Teal."

"Favorite movie?"

"Hmm… Moulin Rouge."

"Good answer. Uhm… favorite book?"

"Pride and Prejudice. No contest."

"Also a very good answer; I was afraid you were going to say Twilight." Kurt swatted at him, insulted. "Okay, okay. Favorite... I don't know. Designer? You look like you know your designers." Blaine gave the other man a sideways glance and analyzed Kurt's perfectly pressed trousers, his shined boots, and the expensive looking blazer that was adorned with various buttons and zippers.

"I sure do. Alexander McQueen is the best that ever lived, may he rest in peace." Kurt grabs at the long strap of his leather bag that is slung over the back of his seat and pulls it onto his lap to show Blaine. "This is a bag from his fall collection of last year."

"I'm… sorry. I'm unfamiliar with him." Blaine said and reached forward to stroke the supple leather of Kurt's bag. But before his fingers could graze the material it was snatched away from him.

"Excuse me? Blaine Anderson, I am ashamed of you. You're probably the best dressed man I've seen in Ohio, besides me, and you haven't heard of McQueen?" Blaine gave him an innocent smile, batted his eyelashes and stood.

He began to gather his trash and tossed it into the trashcan across the room, "I apologize, Kurt. But my meager teacher's salary only allows me to shop at Urban Outfitters and the Gap." He collected his lesson plan notebook and a stack of papers lying in his printer. Then he pushed his chair back under his desk with his toe and waltzed to the door of his office. Before he left Kurt's line of sight he turned and winked at his new coworker, "I'll see you later, Kurt. I've got a class to teach."

And with that Blaine left Kurt in the silence of his dim office Kurt sat that for a moment in stunned silence, but then he drew his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down to stifle the excited squeal that threatened to escape his throat. Blaine Anderson was quite charming, and if Kurt slapped the back of his own hand in the silence of that office to punish himself for forming a little crush on his coworker, well that was his own business.


	5. Chapter 5

**I can't believe it's almost been a month since my last update. I am sooo sorry. I suck. I have a _somewhat_ legitimate excuse though: I had finals at the beginning of December and then I got another job so I was balancing my school work and two jobs, then a shit ton of my family came into town for the holidays so I haven't actually been able to get on my computer for the last 2 or 3 weeks.  
>but now all my family is leaving and I have more time on my hands so I will be writing more.<br>I am currently sick though so this update is a little on the short side. I had planned for this part to be 3 times as long so I apologize for that as well.  
>anyways... enjoy<strong>

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><p>The months of August and September passed by uneventfully for Kurt. He was adjusting to Dalton and living in Westerville. He had memorized almost all of the names of his students and he had come to love Dalton just as much as Jameson Academy, the boarding school he had taught at in New York. He still had lunch with Blaine every day, but now they ate in the teacher's lounge at a table with a few other educators in the building: Hope, the youngest female teacher at school, she must have been in her early thirties, she was a chemistry teacher, Anne, an English teacher and a widowed woman in her forties that was foster mother to fifteen children, and Pete, an older man that had gotten enough of a college education to teach no more than a heath class, but his main job at Dalton was to coach the fencing team. When Blaine had introduced Kurt to the bearded man he had stated that Pete had been his fencing coach when in high school. In that moment Kurt had to thank whatever God there was that a school like Dalton existed in Ohio. He couldn't imagine going back to McKinley to teach along his old teachers, be it Mr. Shue, or, he shuddered to think about it, Coach Sylvester. Dalton was a blessing, and so were all his new friends; they were quite helpful with his personal problems.<p>

Since August, his father's health hadn't stabilized, but it hadn't seemed to be decreasing either, for which Kurt was thankful. He spent most weekends that he wasn't swamped with grading papers and tests at his parents' house, doting on Burt and making sure he wasn't eating anything too caloric. On those days Kurt spent caring for his family in Lima, he kept up casual but flirty conversations with Blaine via text message.

_from: Blaine  
>Halloween is coming up you going trick or treating? ;P<em>

_to: Blaine_  
><em>No, I plan to watch whatever crappy horror movie is on FX that night and text you<em>

_to: Blaine_  
><em>I'm sure that you're going trick or treating though cause you're a creepy man-child :)<em>

_from: Blaine_  
><em>I take offence from that. really though, I might. haha I have a pretty good costume planned out<em>

"What's got you so smiley, honey?" Kurt looked up from his phone and scrambled to lock the screen before setting it down on the table in front of him. Carol was standing in the archway into the kitchen, her bangs pushed back with a headband that Kurt hated and a basket of clean laundry propped up on her left hip.

"Uhm…nobody. No one. Nothing." Kurt stammered, trying to fight the school boy blush that was pushing its way to the apples of his cheeks. Carol nodded and took the seat across from Kurt at the table, a secret smile on her lips.

"So it's like that, huh?" She dropped the laundry basket next to her on the hardwood floor and fished her hand into it, pulling out one of Burt's flannel button-ups before starting to fold it. "Only in town for three months and you're already batting off the boys. Is he cute?"

Kurt fell silent in surprise. He had always had a good relationship with his step-mother, he had even taken to calling her 'mom' during his senior year of high school, but despite their close bond, Kurt couldn't remember ever having any kind of lady-chat such as this one. He supposed that this stemmed from his adulthood and branching from the nest to live on his own. Carol didn't see him as a child any longer and therefore held interest in his personal affairs. Kurt was surprised to find that he was not bothered by it.

"Like you would not believe." Kurt exhaled and shook his head as if he couldn't fathom it himself. "He looks like an old movie star. He has this dark curly hair, and when he talks I feel like I'm being sucked in like he's a siren or something. And his eyes!" Kurt threw his hands up in frustration. "They're the color of honey and I find myself drooling every time I get caught looking into them." Carol unceremoniously dropped the pair of jeans she had been folding and reached out to clasp Kurt's hands on top of the oak table.

"He sounds so dreamy, Kurt. I've always had a weakness for men with curls." She leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Don't tell your father," she winked and went back to her chore of folding the clean linens. "So, what's his name? And where'd you meet him?"

"His name is Blaine Anderson. He usually goes by Mr. Anderson however. He's the German teacher at Dalton." Kurt sighed, "We share a classroom, and I eat lunch with him every day. I'm not even positive that he's actually, y'know… _gay_. But I guess this wouldn't be the first time I've fallen for a straight guy."

Kurt's phone chirped and rumbled gently against the wood in front of him, signaling the arrival of a new text message. He glanced up at Carol before reaching for it, and when his screen lit up with Blaine's name he knew his face split into the dorkiest, love struck teenager grin he could imagine. Carol noticed it also because she stood from the table and bent at the waist to pick up the basket on the floor.

"Don't let him break your heart, young man." She pointed a red painted nail at him with a joking smile on her face. "I'm starting dinner in a few minutes; maybe you could help me with the vegetable lasagna?"

Kurt waved her off with a distracted flick of the wrist and a nod of his head, then unlocked the screen of his iPhone to reply to Blaine's message.

_from: Blaine  
>so since neither of us have plans for that night, maybe you'd wanna go to the bar with me?<br>It's kind of this tradition some of the teacher's have to go to O'Doule's. you don't have to  
>dress up unless you want to<em>

Kurt's heart leapt into his throat at the invitation. It didn't sound like anything more than a friendly get together with a few coworkers but that was just a side note to Kurt. _Blaine _was asking _him_ to _hang out__, outside of work._ Before Kurt could type up his own response, the device vibrated again in his hands.

_from: Blaine  
>I mean you don't have to come. It's not required or anything. and I'm sure FX is playing a<br>pretty crappy horror movie_

Kurt giggled and quickly tapped up his answer, his heart still pounding in his chest.

_to: Blaine  
>I would love to go. I don't know where O'Doule's is though. also, I am definitely dressing up<br>and I can't wait to make fun of you for whatever dorky costume it is that you've decided on_

_from: Blaine  
>I would expect nothing less :D great! I'll give you all the details on Monday<em>

Kurt stood and squeezed his phone into the front pocket of his skinny jeans and then floated into the kitchen, a dreamy smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**I cannot apologize enough for how late this is. and I also want to profusely thank anyone who is still reading this after all this time. I'm an expert at making excuses so... in all honestly, my computer has been fucked the last week or so. and now college has started again so I have less time, but I PROMISE I'm not abandoning this fic, if you'll just trust me and give me some time.  
>so just to make sure everything is clear and refresh your memories: this story is obviously an AU (Blaine is 3 or 4 years older than Kurt, and Sebastian is only just now a student at Dalton) they're all minor details but most other aspects of the story are canon<strong>

* * *

><p>Costumes were not a concept that Kurt was keen to latch onto. Growing up he had never seen the point of squeezing oneself into a cheap polyester get-up just to be handed candy like a sick child. Of course that didn't mean he had never gone trick-or-treating; he did but once.<p>

_He had been in the first grade at the time and he knew all the other kids were going so his mother had persuaded him into accompanying his classmates. She had graciously asked him what he wanted to be and he had eagerly replied, "A fairy princess, like Tinkerbelle!" She only smiled at him and patted his soft brunette head. By Halloween night, Kurt had forgotten that he said anything, so when his mother presented him with a hand stitched green ensemble he was reasonably surprised. The garment itself looked much like the attire of Peter Pan; Kurt's short legs were wrapped in cotton leggings of an emerald shade, and the jade tunic he wore was belted around the waist. After he had gotten dressed, he noted to his mother that he didn't look much like a princess and she silenced by handing over a plastic wand that had a star resting on the top and a handful of streamers tied just below it. From the top of her dresser, his mother also produced a matching silver painted tiara and a dollar store package of stage makeup. When Kurt and his mother left the house, crown firmly placed on his head, to walk the neighborhood with a few of his friends, he felt so much like a princess he couldn't help but spin on his heel in delight, waving his wand in the air all the while.  
>"Hey Kurt!" He heard from his left, and he twirled to discover that the yelling had come from another boy his age, Dave Karofsky. Dave seemed to look over Kurt's glitter sprinkled face for a minute but then he spoke again, his finger pointing mockingly, "what's on your face? You look like a girl!"<br>Kurt then dropped his wand on the pavement and turned his face up to his mother, his bottom lip quivering. "Is he right, mommy? Do I look like a girl?"  
>She bent down to look him in the eye and she wiped off a sparkly tear that was clumped in the corner of his lashes, "of course not, sweetheart. Don't listen to him. Do you still want to go trick-or-treating?"<br>Kurt shook his head and scrubbed at the dried body glitter on his cheeks. Then, even though he was getting to be too old and too heavy to be picked up, his mother enfolded her arms around his tiny waist and hoisted him up until he could wrap his legs around her hips. She held him in a hug to her chest into the house and only let go when she had safely placed him in his bed.  
>A month later his mother was dead and even though his father had laid out a pair of dress pants and an oxford shirt for Kurt to wear to the funeral, the young boy insisted on wearing his princess costume and refused to leave the house until his father conceded to the idea. Burt was not so agreeing though and instead thought up a truce, if Kurt wore the nice clothes he would be allowed to wear his tiara and his stage makeup and even bring his wand.<br>On the drive to the church, Kurt sat in the backseat of the car, blindly applying the roll-on body glitter to his temples and cheeks. When they arrived at the service, Burt scolded his son for the excessive sparkles on his face, but in the interest of time, didn't force him to wash any off.  
>For the entirety of the service and even on through the burial at the cemetery, Kurt held onto his father's fingers in one hand, and his silver wand in the other.<em>

Kurt had only gone to two costume parties since then and had been forced into both by his college dorm roommate in New York. However, this year he had seemed to have a change of heart. He had spent most of his Saturday evening and all of his Sunday chatting with Mercedes on the phone about different ideas and surfing the web for something he could throw together himself in only a few short days. By Monday morning, Kurt had solidified a decent costume idea for how short notice the plans were and he was planning on going shopping for his necessary supplies and accessories that afternoon.

His first class that morning was his seniors, and unfortunately that meant Sebastian Smythe was going to be sitting in the front row, staring openly at Kurt's mouth as he spoke. He was not looking forward to that.

The period had gone by almost without a hitch. They had reviewed the possessive clause in preparation for the quiz Kurt was giving the next class time, and he had been so pleased with their cooperation for their hour of review that he allowed the boys to talk amongst themselves for the remaining five minutes of class.

It was then that Blaine strolled into the classroom, his leather bag slung over his shoulder and a cardboard tray holding two paper coffee cups was clenched in his hands. He waved at Kurt as he got a little closer to his desk and when he reached the tabletop he smiled widely.

"Guten morgen, Kurt. How was your weekend?" (_"Good morning, Kurt.") _Blaine twisted the cup he knew was Kurt's out of its cardboard confines and handed it over to his friend. "Nonfat mocha. Careful, it's still hot." Kurt smiled gratefully at the older man, a light blush flushing his cheeks.

"So are you two fucking now, or what?" The room suddenly fell silent and Kurt whipped his head around to his left to see Sebastian wagging his finger between them, a thoughtfully serious look on his face. He raised a single eyebrow and watched on curiously as both teachers' faces quickly glowed scarlet.

"Sebastian that is wildly inappropriate." Blaine placed his cup down on the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, and Kurt couldn't help but notice the way the action made the older teacher's biceps bulge around the cuffs of the black polo he was wearing. "And even if we were, would it be any of your business?" Sebastian's mouth opened, a snarky reply on his tongue, but Blaine cut him off, "Please don't answer that. And that better be the last rude thing I hear you say or I'm gonna write you up, again. Got it, Smythe?"

The senior boy rolled his eyes but nodded and picked up his pencil and began to doodle in his open notebook. For the next several, dragging seconds, the room remained silent, the other students glancing around at each other in shock. But suddenly the bell rang and the entire class moved at once, leaving the awkward atmosphere of the room in a hurry.

Kurt, occupied with straightening the papers on his desk, jumped slightly when he felt a warm hand on his elbow. He looked up at Blaine and had to smile a little when he noticed the other's bashful grin.

"I'm sorry I kind of made a scene in your class. But Sebastian just doesn't know when to shut his mouth." Blaine picked up his coffee again and sipped it as he leaned against the side of Kurt's desk.

"Yeah, I think he's doing his homework and then some. His vocabulary in my class has become quite… colorful. There are times where I am actually unsure of what he's actually saying, but I'm not naïve enough to think for a second that it's not crude." Kurt smirked and sat in his chair, his legs crossing on their own accord. "But enough about Sebastian, you were going to tell me about the place you are dragging me to on Friday. What was it called?"

Blaine laughed, "It's called O'Doule's. And I'm not dragging you anywhere. If you don't want to go, you don't have to."

"Oh no, I'm definitely going, I already decided on my costume. And before you ask, no, I am not going to tell you." Blaine giggled but then pouted cutely. "Not unless you tell me yours."

"Absolutely not."

* * *

><p>Halloween that year fell on a Friday, and Kurt had to work. Sebastian had continued to make passes at him for the rest of the week but they had considerably lessened in both quantity and quality. Kurt sat with the other teachers and Blaine in the teacher's lounge that day for lunch and listened as they told stories of past years at O'Doule's.<p>

"Last year, Anne wasn't there 'cause two of her kids had the stomach flu. But Pete and I went with Blaine. Blaine won the award for best costume, and best karaoke performance. But I think it was rigged. He only won because he wasn't wearing a shirt." Hope had a smile on her face but she sounded bitter, "I spent weeks on my Lady Gaga costume."

"I was too wearing a shirt. Well I guess not really. It was just a vest." Blaine turned his gaze on Kurt when he saw the puzzled look on his face. "I went as Aladdin. I had the vest and harem pants and I had a little stuffed money on my shoulder."

While Kurt was definitely pleased by the image of Blaine walking around a bar half-naked, that wasn't the first thing on his mind. "You didn't tell me there was karaoke at this place Blaine. I have nothing prepared."

"Kurt, you don't have to sing; unless of course you want to, in which case you would hear no objections from me. I'm sure you have a lovely voice." Blaine looked slightly flustered as he took another bite of his peanut butter sandwich. Kurt was still for a moment, letting the compliment sink in.

"I'll sing if you sing." He offered, the corner of his lip curling in a silent challenge.

Anne took in the exchange with glee, "Of course he will. Blaine is a natural performer and I'm sure he would love to sing you one of the numerous Katy Perry numbers in his repertoire."

Blaine sighed, but then shook his head in defeat, a broad smile on his face, "Fine. I'll sing. But I'm sure Kurt will be better than me."

Kurt beamed and danced a tiny bit in his seat, the upcoming night seemed to be looking more and more promising.


End file.
